


At least it's not coffee

by ArtoriusIV



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Sleeplessness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, angsty fluff, established relationships - Freeform, midnight ramblings, morning talks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 11:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20242174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtoriusIV/pseuds/ArtoriusIV
Summary: Angela wakes to an empty bed. Where could Moira be?





	At least it's not coffee

**Author's Note:**

> This 3 am discussion between doctors is brought to you by my own 3 am sleeplessness. However mine was with coffee instead of whiskey. Oh well.

She woke up, which in and of itself was not an unusual occurrence. The bed beside her was empty, again, not an uncommon occurrence. What was uncommon however was the lack of light in the bedroom, usually when she wakes the windows have been depolarized enough to let light in. It’s with great effort that Angela looks over to the nightstand to read the clock. 2:58 blinks back at her in the aggressive red lights.  
  
She sighs, before getting up, a bathrobe donned before she heads out to the living room. There the windows have been adjusted, closer to Moira’s preferred darkness at 88% opacity instead of the 82 they agree on throughout most nights. The lone woman already in the living room sighs, and without turning her head “Don’t tell me you came out here to berate me.” she says, taking a sip of her whiskey. Bottle on a small table the she moved from the couch, chair moved as well as she looks out the window, framed nicely by the light coming through the windows by the kitchen, and subsequently where Moira happened to be were much lighter.  
  
Angela sighs, “No, I was coming to tempt you back to bed, but I see you’ve already found your second love here.” a gentle tease between the two, given Moira’s drinking habit. By no means one that is unhealthy, but if it is alcohol, it is whiskey. “Oh come now darling, what else was I suppose to drink brooding at 3 in the morning? At least the alcohol will help me sleep instead of keeping me awake.” she defends.  
  
“I wasn’t going to say that.” Angela lies, the response of course is Moira’s scoff. A silent communication that Moira knows she had intended to before her rebuttal, but that didn’t matter in the moment. Instead “The city is lovely tonight.” a plea for company.  
  
Angela’s answer comes with the sound of a chair being moved, set down beside Moira “At least if it were coffee you would share.” she teases, taking the glass from Moira regardless, who relinquishes it with a toothless glare. Oh how Angela has been on the receiving end of that withering stare, meant to make your knees weak from intimidation of arousal, she has never managed to get a clear or concise answer from Moira about the intended use of that specific weapon in her arsenal of natural trickery.  
  
Indeed when they had first started working together Moira was much more defensive, pensive and far from open with her. It was sometimes still difficult to get Moira to talk to her, but, with the years seeing them by, the distance as well for some time. Well, they have a comfortable way of communicating with each other.  
  
It’s a much smaller sip then Moira takes, the burn still something Angela hasn’t gotten used to. More accurately something she hasn’t learned to enjoy. The two of them sit in silence, handing the glass back and forth, Moira filling it whenever one of them finishes it, staring out at the city. “I never had a home.” Moira says filling the silence. “I never knew what it felt like.” she elaborates  
  
Angela hands her back the glass “Underwhelming isn’t it?” she asks with a soft chuckle. “No, I… I understand now why so many of our comrades fought to keep theirs. Why people like Jack and Gabe would go to the ends they did for their home.” another glass drained, another glass full. The bottle resting beside Moira once more.  
  
The fighting, it was always a difficult topic for the two of them. While Angela understood, and eventually forgave Moira for her choices, her association with her other employer. It took a long time for them to be able to discuss it without it becoming a yelling match. It was still a topic they tended to avoid. “Oh?” is all the medical doctor says. Coffee would almost be preferred, but the looseness that comes from the alcohol likely what has helped Moira open up.  
  
“The world is terrible. Akande, imbecile that he is, is not wrong about that. There are many things that need to be fixed, humanity among them. His methods are barbaric and brutish. Dis-proven and childish, but like all great men, he has conviction. Who needs facts when you _sound_ convinced.” another scoff followed by another drink, “You know I joined merely out of desperation. Climbed because of brilliance and have held my position through every means necessary. I know I don’t speak of it often, and I honestly should. But I don’t want to lose my home.”  
  
Angela is speechless. It is not like Moira to be so verbose about anything outside her research, a fact that made it difficult for those of Overwatch to get along with her. Something that Angela suspects has made it harder for those in Talon to dethrone her. She remembers the day that Moira and the Blackwatch team came back from the ill-fated mission in Italy.  
  
The death of Antonio put many things into action, not least among them propelling Moira up the ranks and onto the terrorists inner council. Outside of that fact Angela knew very little about her wife’s other job. In part because they couldn’t talk about it, but also because Moira thought it protected her. Thought that by not knowing the things Moira might be doing, the days she is off on ‘Vacation’ as they tell the ministers Moira works with, the dangers she is in. Angela knows nothing more then what she could learn reading a report from Overwatch.  
  
“Moira, I am not leaving you. I’ve made my peace with what you had to do, and I understand you are too deep now to just walk away. I don’t like it, but it isn’t something that will have me running for the hills like it might’ve five, ten years ago.” the Swiss doctor explains. Hand seeking Moira’s own, the dead skin still a shock, though only for a moment as the warmth she expects is not found.  
  
Moira squeezes it gently, either because right now that is all the muscles can do, or because Moira is being careful with the lack of pain reception in the hand making it difficult to tell the difference between ‘comforting squeeze’ and ‘bone crushing squeeze’. Angela smiles at her, “Is that what this is about? The world going to shit around us?” she prods, trying to get Moira to open up.  
  
Moira chuckles, a short sharp sarcastic sound, “The world has been shit, it isn’t going there Angela. But no, tonight I just struggled to sleep. It is difficult to rest when I am so used to doing something all of the time.” she says, offering the drink to Angela, who with a gentle shake of her head declines any more. A nod as Moira drains the glass, setting it down next to her.  
  
“I came out here to be alone with my thoughts, but I am glad that I am not.” she says softly, turning to catch Angelas eyes with her own. The sincerity in them, as well as the hesitation, it was part of what made it so hard for Moira to open up. It’s never worked out for her when she has, and so for years, decades before Angela even met the impatient doctor, she had learned to build walls around herself and close herself off from others.  
  
Nights like this were few and far between, moments like this, even rarer. Angela smiles at her, “You got stuck with me Dr. O’Deorain.” she teases, “No matter how alone you are, your never alone with your thoughts, because I am with you too.” she says, squeezing Moira’s hand, despite knowing logically that Moira can’t feel it herself. Moira scoffs at the cheesy line from her wife, “Dr Ziegler I believe that you are in dire need of sleep. I can think of no other reason that you would be spouting such illogical nonsense.” her tone equally teasing.  
  
“I suppose you might be right Dr. O’Deorain, though it seems that there is a problem with that as my sleeping conditions are rather fragile and require a specific, oft irritating Irishwoman beside me.” Moira scoffs at her, but can’t stop the smile spreading across her face. “Then let me put my drink away and I will join you.” She says, pulling their clasped hands to her lips to give her knuckles a kiss, “Be a shame to ruin my second love by leaving her out for too long.” she returns the teasing which gets Angela to laugh.  
  
“Don’t take too long them my love. You have that ministry meeting tomorrow.” she says.


End file.
